


Where the Lovelight Gleams

by T Verano (t_verano)



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: 2017 TS Secret Santa Drabble Days prompt "Christmas Eve", Christmas fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2020-05-15 12:32:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19295824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_verano/pseuds/T%20Verano
Summary: Christmas Eve at the loft. Blair's out of town and Jim's just...on hold.





	Where the Lovelight Gleams

**Author's Note:**

> written for the 2017 TS Secret Santa Drabble Days prompt "Christmas Eve"
> 
> The song lyrics aren't exactly in order. Which hurts my soul, but what can you do. (Aside from blame Blair. Really, it's his fault.)

_"...I'll be home for Christmas, you can plan on me..."_

Jim waits. 

Waits for this day to be over. Waits for tomorrow to be over. Waits for this goddamned 'unprecedented winter super-storm' that's keeping Blair from making it back home to be fucking _over._

Why Naomi had to spend December in Maine, why she had to cajole Blair into flying out to join her for a week... No, that's not fair. 'Cajole' isn't fair. He's glad - of course he's glad - that Blair's been able to spend time with his mother. And the blizzards and the cancelled flights certainly aren't Naomi's fault.

But. 

But Blair should've been home three days ago. 

And now... Now, Jim's on hold. 

_"...I'll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams..."_

Jim admits it. He's on hold, waiting for Blair to get back. 

_Slightly_ on hold. 

All right, a little more than _slightly_ on hold. Waiting. For Blair. 

Funny thing, though; Christmas isn't waiting for Blair. Christmas apparently doesn't give a crap that Blair isn't going to be home. 

Unlike Jim. Who's still a little surprised at the way things have worked out, at the way Blair's become the glue that holds all the best parts of him together, the way Blair's become not just a safe harbor, but _home,_ the truest home Jim's ever had. 

So tomorrow can call itself Christmas all it wants, but as far as Jim's concerned, it's just going to be another day to get through. Without Blair.

_"...Please have snow and mistletoe, and presents on the tree..."_

The tree Jim put up four days ago stands in the living room, mocking him. Its branches are bare, waiting for Blair and the now traditional decorating-the-tree collaboration slash competition slash (highly entertaining) argument. 

The mistletoe's waiting too, hanging just inside the doorway. Honest-to-God mistletoe, courtesy (who knows why) of Megan. _Unnecessary_ mistletoe; the odds already being extremely good that not very long after Blair (finally) walks through the door he'll be reeling Jim in for a kiss.

Or vice versa. 

_"...Christmas Eve will find me, where the lovelight gleams..."_

People somewhere in the building are playing Christmas carols. Jim's... not. He's trying (and failing) to avoid too many reminders that it's Christmas Eve. 

Christmas Eve. So what. Sure, he's called his father and Steven down in Napa. He'll call again tomorrow, check on his nephews. Call Simon tomorrow. 

Tonight - what's left of it - he's waiting for Blair to call. Which had better be goddamn soon; he hasn't heard from him once today. 

A sound wakes him up (surely he hadn't dozed off? he's been stretched out on the couch, watching the fire, waiting for Blair to call, not _asleep_ ) but --

A sound. Not just a sound, but the sound of a key in the lock. The sound of the door opening. Of Blair's too-long-absent voice saying, "Jim, hey! I made it! You won't believe what I had to --"

The sound of home, coming back to Jim.

Just in time for Christmas.


End file.
